Black Velvet and White Satin
by Burne Hazard
Summary: Dumbledore has pulled a new player into the game, the same one Voldemort is using. Snape & Harry are tossed into new trouble, mainly the type of sinful passion. There will be slash later, possibly rating change. Different pairings. Please Review!
1. Disclaimer Time

Okay, disclaimer time as this just works.  
One:  I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters (unfortunately), I simply borrowed them to have a bit of non-profit fun so please don't sue.  
Two:  I do own the original character so please no stealing him alright?  
Three:  There will probably be music lyrics of some sort appearing now and again, I will not own these songs and am only using them if they fit in with a certain mood or for inspiration.  
Four:  Erm, I think that's it.  Oh, there will be slash later on, and descriptive stuff as well more than likely so if you don't like it, don't read.  I suggest you simply find another story.  
Five:  Before I forget, I am writing this with occasional help and inspiration from several other people and thus extend my thanks for their influence.  I have not read the books, due to someone in my "family" being a book-burner who believes Harry Potter is the--er, well, won't go into that, but I have only seen the first movie and many of my ideas are inspired by stories and RP so bear with me if something pops up as odd or wrong as this is my first Harry Potter fic attempt.  
  
Okay, that's all, so what are you waiting around here for?  Go on and read!


	2. The Death Eater and the Destrier

            _When the night comes, do children scream in fear for what they do not understand?_  
            The heavy beat of a racing heart seemed to overcome the nocturnal sounds of the Dark Forest.  Ragged breathing quickening with every sudden pound of blood crashing through veins as it soared along its way made the silence of the trees all the more deadly.  Chimes of ice sounded when the breeze pushed through the foreboding trees, making the fang-like falls of icicles meet in hard kisses and tapping caresses.  Snow crunched and winter-locked foliage crackled with the mere presence moving amidst the darkness.  
            _When darkness falls, do they stay awake in terror to hear what is not there, to see what cannot be seen?_  
            Shadow flowed and moved in rippling waves, shifting and twisting to adjust and adapt to motion no mere patch of darkness should have had.  That lone breeze, cold and quiet became a wind dancing across that portion of night's blackest velvet, stroking with clawed fingers, raking at the ragged banners trailing the abnormality.  Silken whips lashed viciously at the teasing torment of the wind, making it sing in whispered tones at the gestures.  
            _Do they fear the darkness for what it conceals...or what they think it conceals?_  
            Clouds of twisting, writhing steam blasted from an overheated form, rising like the trails of a ghost's gristly locks from pure darkness.  Onward, faster and faster as black blended with dark and motion blurred with stillness.  Yet all things met their death in one way or another, as did this strange happening as speed vanished and motion came to abrupt halts but for faint stirrings suggesting that life and activity still remained.  
            _Is it the coming of the night they fear, or that what they believe to be evil uses it to conceal its approach, to hide its intentions?  The night is neither good nor evil, yet because it is used by evil, it is seen as such.  If something so calm yet so chaotic as simple nightfall is seen as evil for what uses it...then the way that I, myself, would be seen is something I have yet to truly consider.  All the more reason that I should remain as I am now...alone, aloof...if only to protect those I care for more than I ever did care for myself._  
            Alone within the snow embraced forest, something black rested starkly against snow made into an ethereal glow in silvery pale moonlight.  Such cool beams from the moon overhead could not raise any shimmer from the black form, as if the creature devoured the light.  Four slender, powerful long legs rested in poised grace with straight bearing.  The sleek form of a powerful, large equine outlined in white for all to see should they dare enter the Dark Forest, the Forbidden Forest resting outside Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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            Snow crunched and whispered faintly as it was disturbed by several feet falling upon its otherwise undisturbed blanket.  The sounds were oddly loud this night, at least, that was what the slender form in a long black cloak with hood pulled far over the head thought.  Whatever features the humanoid form had were concealed by a mask of cloth apparently attached to the hood.  As it was, the unknown form moved with an odd manner of grace like a feline or serpent.  The presence of such a dark form was more than enough to ward the creatures of the forest away.  
            Behind the figure, there was no trail as a charm wove along the ground beneath the form, erasing any and all tracks that might have allowed another to follow.  So deep within the forest, even the thought of the castle standing warm and welcoming behind was an alien thing meant for what certainly had to be a dream world.  Only the night seemed to be witness to the lone form braving the elements.  However, it was not for a pair of eyes so dark blue they were black followed the moving shadow.  
            While the being drew ever closer to those watching eyes concealed by both night and forest obstacles, the one watching waited.  Deep breaths claimed the watcher, snaring even the faintest of scents upon the air that were not of the crisp cold.  Before either truly realized it, they were directly across from one another.  The cloaked form came to a stop so suddenly it made it appear that the previous motions had never been.  Each of the two stood as still as the forest itself.  
            "And by what name do you go by in this form, familiar?  Do you choose another word that befits your name as another?"  
            The words seemed to shatter the stillness of the area only to gather the shards up and weave them back into place in order to form a new tapestry.  It did not, however, manage to draw forth a response from the owner of those fathomless eyes like twin voids of darkness.  Perhaps it was that alone which in turn made the cloaked form tilt its head forward in a semblance of a glower.  At the very least, the rich tone gave revelation to the gender of the humanoid, for it was very masculine despite the slow trickle of sensuous poison left within one's veins.  
            "Shall I then guess which name you have bestowed upon yourself this night when you insist upon blocking my path?  Perhaps you have chosen Descry.  Or maybe Despair.  If your style holds true, it may even be Despite or Despot."  
            Every word seemed to make those hollow eyes narrow, becoming even darker.  The winter breeze curled and twisted along the darkness cast by both beings facing one another down.  Suddenly, a sharp snort cast a thick cloud of white vapor into the air where it twisted and flailed about as it dissipated.  And with it, a thin twist of matching white seemed to emerge from the masked hood.  Quiet fell once again as the two simply watched one another.  
            "No...I know now.  Destrier."  
            A single dip of an elegant head and the momentary mystery was solved.  Tension that had been building was suddenly eased as both only then realized it had been there in the first place.  Rather cautiously, the cloaked figure stepped closer, robes making him seem to glide like a black ghost across the ground as the snow made no sound beneath his boots and no tracks marked his passing.  And all those solid dark eyes did was watch as he approached.  
            Not quite six feet separated the two when action was taken in a violent surge of rippling muscle beneath black hide.  All shadow departed from that dark form to reveal a powerfully formed equine of black, displayed in complete glory as it reared up.  Deadly hooves made the air shriek as it was slashed and torn, falling about the snowy ground like shards of a broken mirror.  The cloaked form froze in his tracks lest he be struck by those hooves.  
            Only when the man stopped did the equine come back to earth, ears flat against his head only to perk and turn forward.  Again they simply stood like that as time wore on.  Only the slight shift of that silken mane or tail and the slight sway of the black cloak when the breeze licked over them seemed to break the stillness.  Time passed, and as it did, the stranger seemed to begin to fidget, the unease in the air growing more noticeable.  
            Brush crackled and snapped behind the equine before the sound of something grunting began to recede.  In the silence, it made a racket that was positively deafening.  A sharp jerk revealed that the cloaked form was startled though no further motion was revealed.  Finally, the noises faded away and the equine stepped aside with high, graceful motions, moving as if prancing or perhaps simply showing off.  
            Without a word, the stranger almost slithered forward.  Now that his path was clear without a single hindrance, he made haste to continue.  The quiet, "Thank you, Destrier" was nearly lost before the man was completely out of sight.  Alone once again in the forest, the equine's ears again turned back as a sharp snort departed flared nostrils.  Relaxing, the elegant head tilted as sparkling black eyes looked to where the man had vanished.  
            _You are welcome, Severus.  Just come back in one piece..._

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            "...or I'll kill you myself next time, understand?"  
            The only answer was a hiss of pain as pale hands pressed a bit too hard upon an open wound despite the gentle touches.  A fresh well of crimson rose only to be soothed away by pungent smelling salve as those fingers resumed their work.  With the healing ointment, the wound began to close up once more, fading further with every stroke.  Flesh that was pale white and pallid despite the angry coloring of bruises both new and old began to mend.  
            Severus Snape, stripped down to merely torn black trousers lay face-first upon the bed in his private chambers.  His body was a gristly canvas of open wounds, bruises, cuts and scrapes.  Some had been made by a whip, others by fists and hands, others by weapons of various types, and all of them marred the smooth, wan flesh of his slender form.  Face buried in a pillow now that he was alone but for one other, he bit into it, more out of a burning temperament than anything.  
            His hair was matted in blood and filth, even as that same filth stained where the wounds and other abuse did not.  In truth, he had not expected the Death Eater meeting to turn out quite the way it had or he would have taken a few potions before attending in order to help himself heal faster.  The pale hands working upon his back and sides were gentle despite the pain that came with every touch.  At least the effects of the Cruciatus Curse had been removed the instant he had reached his quarters.  
            "Do you understand?"  
            Wincing again before soothing salve numbed the pain away, he managed a nod before forcing his head up to glance over a shoulder that had been dislocated moments before and was now mostly healed.  His cold black eyes were glazed with pain yet he did not make any sound other than a faint hiss now and then.  Rather, he glared at the form leaning forward over him and currently lecturing him for attending the meeting.  
            "Well, Des," he spat.  "If a certain someone had not held me up for so long in the forest while I was heading toward a meeting...ah!  I wouldn't have been late and this wouldn't have happened now would it."  
            That voice was as cold and lethal as an ice-locked steel dagger.  Yet the other being did not flinch.  Rather, the head rose so that Snape's black on white eyes met two eyes of solid black, things that were hollow and locked in the same cold held within the wounded man's eyes with the pain of seeing another suffer and be helpless to stop it.  Both hands fell still as the two locked gazes, battling with something neither of them truly knew, except it was not really a fight between them.  
            Des Masuku was a slender, lithe man much as Severus himself was, with the same pale skin and black hair but that his was far longer than the potion master's, reaching down past his lower back to dance about his hips.  The sharp features seemed unnervingly similar to Snape even if appearing several years younger without the sharp form of the Roman nose or the same chiseled hardness of face.  Anyone watching might even wonder if the two were indeed related, and many had wondered the same before upon meeting the long-haired man.  
            "In the future, I'll try to focus more on your schedule rather than your safety and life.  Will that make you happy?"  
            Blinking, Severus actually had to restrain the urge to growl, though his glare seemed to make up for it.  Turning again, he simply rested his chin on the pillow and glowered straight ahead.  The warm hands began to move upon his back yet again and he tried to relax as bit by bit, the pain was removed.  It was easier to breathe now, thankfully no bones had been broken this time.  His eyes closed as he shifted into a slightly more comfortable position.  
            All track of time was soon lost as the silence wore on, interrupted only by an occasional hiss or the hummed lines to some song or other, most of them from muggle origins.  Snape found himself beginning to drift off despite the lingering agony of his body.  He barely realized it when Des gently removed his trousers and treated his legs as well as the rest of his back.  Only half awake, he realized he was being turned over and those warm hands were working upon his arms and chest.  
            Eyes opening partially, he watched Des work, drifting.  Tonight had been a tax on him, despite how often he went through such ordeals.  It left his mind detached.  Maybe it was the fact that he so rarely felt gentle hands that tried not to cause pain, but he was relaxing more and more.  What pain was left seemed almost a pleasant ache, an occasional sharp stab of pain always fading into a fiery burn that just drifted away.  
            Only when those hands began to work on his stomach did he wake a bit more, pulled back to his body by slightly faster breaths and a racing heart.  He knew what was happening.  It always happened when Des worked.  There was no shame even as he felt the fire warming his blood, the faint knot that formed inside as his stomach fluttered.  No, this was nothing new.  It was simply the skilled hands drawing a physical reaction from his body, one growing rather apparent as he bit back a moan.  
            The faintest of smiles brushed the man's lips as he regarded Severus.  No doubt Des was watching the play of muscles rippling and rolling beneath that pale flesh, admiring the attractive form of his body.  Oh, Snape knew how the other man thought, mostly due to the way those solid black eyes spoke to him than anything.  Even as he began to part his lips to suggest they stop as he was feeling better, hot hands made into smooth, satin heat wrapped around his arousal, stealing his voice, breath and thoughts all at once.  
            Moaning despite himself, he grabbed for the bedcovers, gripping them hard in effort to keep from being swept away altogether.  His hips thrust toward those stroking hands as he tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling.  A chuckle from Des made him almost stop, before deciding it was not worth it.  The way every skilled stroke sent jolts of sensation through him was worth letting Des have something back for Severus' own snap.  
            "Do you want me to stop, Severus?"  
            Hands stilling a moment, they allowed Snape to gasp for breath, calming slightly.  Turning his head to send Des a sharp look, he noticed the smirk resting upon the man's pale lips, the sparkle in those black eyes.  Now the professor had to war with himself.  He wanted nothing more than to demand Des continue and make him feel everything good for all the pain he had been through.  Yet, the next day was filled with classes.  Mentally, he cursed himself and slumped.  
            Des took that as a despondent "Yes" and removed his hands.  Since there were no more bad wounds to tend to, he twisted to pile his things back onto the tray placed on the foot of the bed.  Cleaning things up, he looked back to Severus.  Already the man was managing to calm himself.  Unfortunately, he knew how that was done.  Both of them were fiercely loyal (to appearances at least) to Albus Dumbledore, yet often they used a mental image of him in a thong dancing to will their...arousal...away.  
            It worked as Severus suddered, fighting back the urge to gag.  Carefully shifting, he turned onto his side even as Des rose to set the tray aside on a nearby chair.  No word was said as the man helped the aching one under the covers of his bed.  The tenderness displayed might have shocked anyone and everyone should they watch the dark one tucking the potion's master in without being snapped at.  But there was a reason they were in private.  
            Again Severus found himself beginning to drift off.  This time he knew it was due to the medication Des used to treat him.  He watched the long-haired form move around his quarters, tidying up things and making certain the fire was dim yet the heat remained.  In truth, it was a rather pleasant sight as the light caught the black satin shirt Des wore, making it glisten wetly just as the unbound locks of hair shimmered.  The tight leather pants and knee-high riding boots helped as well.  
            Just as Des tossed the stained and torn clothes Snape had been wearing aside for the house elves to take care of, he caught sight of the man in the bed.  By the deep, rather even breathing, he was already sound asleep.  That accounted for the fact he no longer felt the professor's eyes on him.  A faint smile touched his lips as he turned to put the various things he had used to make the salve away.  
            Taking up his own black cloak in one hand, he draped it over his arm, halfway folded to keep it from dragging upon the ground.  Standing before the heat of the fireplace, he took a moment to simply study Severus.  The bruises patterning his face in cruelty were already fading, a bit slower than the open wounds had, but that was due to a potion.  His smile faded away as a look of helpless pain flashed through his hollow eyes.  Even with the bruises, the hair many thought of as greasy fanned out over the pillow like black satin.  
            Quietly, he moved to the door, ready to head out.  Pausing, he took one more look back to Snape before releasing a heavy sigh.  
            "Good night, Severus.  And good luck tomorrow.  I have the feeling you will certainly need it."  
            The portal opened before him and he slid out into the cold, dank air of the Dungeons.  He waited for it to close behind him before taking a single glance around and turning to head even further into the labyrinth of passages.  His own quarters were hidden somewhere within the tunnels.  As he walked, he allowed himself to become lost in thought about Severus Snape, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore and most importantly, Harry Potter.  His own words echoed back to him as if a ghost were speaking in the hall.  
            _All the more reason that I should remain as I am now...alone, aloof...if only to protect those I care for more than I ever did care for myself._


End file.
